


The Mission

by Eonneo



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Abuse, Android, Blood, Connor - Freeform, Detroit: Become Human - Freeform, Deviant Connor (Detroit: Become Human), F/M, Face Slapping, Hair-pulling, Interrogation, Kissing, M/M, Physical Abuse, Rape/Non-con Elements, Slapping, Verbal Abuse, Verbal Humiliation, chase - Freeform, saliva
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-30
Updated: 2020-01-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:28:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22479460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eonneo/pseuds/Eonneo
Summary: Connor, the android sent by Cyberlife, will do whatever he needs to accomplish his mission.
Relationships: Connor/Original Characters
Comments: 6
Kudos: 15





	The Mission

**Author's Note:**

> MAN, I haven't had motivation to do something this big in a LONG while. Not since my RDR2 fic, Brutal Beatings. And while it's TMI, y'all know you're here to get your own fix, so I'm just going to say: I've been super fucking sexually frustrated as of late. In the mood for some aggressive, painful sex. As you all figured who have been following me for a while, I'm now into Detroit: Become Human and all of Connor's interrogation scenes fucking get me. (Oh, yeah, on more TMI, I have a brutal interrogation kink. Isn't it obvious to my long time fans?)
> 
> So have this. I won't lie, I've not proofread as much as usual, but I REALLY want to share it right now, so EXCUSE any errors - I will fix them in the next day or two. But this DESERVES to be read.
> 
> Instead of a reader insert, I attempted to do a first perspective, but it's still meant to be a type of reader insert. I honestly really like this style more and it really lets me fit myself into the perspective as I write. SO, I hope it does what you needed.
> 
> DISCLAIMER: I am in no way condoning abuse or non-consensual sex, but instead use writing fictional characters to help express it for those who may enjoy it. I am into this. I am a masochist. I'd much reather be writing fictional characters beating the fuck out of me then putting myself into dangerous situations. Hope you understand! 

The taste of rain rested in a haze on the air, cool mist rushing by my face as I ran through the streets. I could barely make out the sounds of cars, engines revving or horns blaring, the barks of stray dogs as my scent came to them, and the rhythmic, heavy footsteps of an android close behind me.  
I didn't know the streets. I didn't even know the part of the city I raced in. The only thought even on my mind was to run, and run _quickly_ , the ever present possibility I couldn't outrun a machine racing with me. A brick wall would cut me off, then a metal fence. Sometimes just piles of garbage or a dumpster. Every wrong turn I made closed more distance between me and my pursuer.  
At the suburbs of the city, between two dilapidated houses, I found a clear stretch of dirt through a junkyard. My lungs burning, the sky thundering in the distance, I let my feet carry me over the soft ground, the scent of rust overwhelming my senses. Piles of debris, metal and wood grew, and piece by piece I felt _him_ closing in. Right when my lungs felt they could burst, my legs seizing up, I saw what had once existed as the steel mill of the town, and hoped to lose the android in its walls.  
I didn't look back, climbing the fence, fingers snagging on jagged edges, and fell in a heap on the other side. Rain began to drizzle over me, cooling my hot skin, another round of thunder grumbling. My shoes went from soft dirt to the crunches of broken glass, windows long shot out by rogue teenagers and wildlife that had made their homes within the walls.  
A metal door, rusted off the hinges, drooped sadly, and I barreled myself into it. Even damaged, it didn't give much, only enough for me to squeeze through into the dimness of the factory's existence. Only faint streetlight from outside offered me guidance, the sound of rain heavy now on the tin roofing. In that moment, focusing on the rain, I could feel my heart pounding, blood rushing through my veins, and knew I had to stop or I'd likely pass out.  
I stood, bent over, taking in greedy breaths, hacking at the dryness of my throat. I almost let my nerves calm, assuring myself I had outran the android, just to be brutally brought back from a crashing sound behind me. I hoped for thunder, but footsteps on the concrete floor disappointed me. I tried to will my body to run, but only made a few footsteps when I felt the force of weight on my back, slamming me to the floor headfirst.  
My lip busted on impact, the bitter copper taste overtaking me. My lungs had no room to even yell as the android twisted its hand into my hair, its heavy knee digging at my lower back. We both existed in temporary silence, and as I still caught my breath, I noticed the android took no breaths itself.  
“You reached your limit, didn't you?” his voice droned, male in tone. I didn't waste time replying, my throat like sandpaper.  
“Humans have no endurance, no real capacity for greatness.” I felt his fingers cling to my hair, forcing my face into my pooling blood and cold concrete. “They made androids to make up for their lack of strength. Intelligence. They made us to do everything they couldn't do.”  
“What do you want?” I heaved, tapping my own fingers along the floor, trying to give myself strength to stand, but it just didn't happen.  
“Jerecho.” The android heaved me up with ease, as if I had no weight, and shoved me against a metal wall. I could feel the rust on it, flecks sticking at my skin, digging into it.  
“I don't know about Jerecho,” At least, nothing I would give up to him.  
He jerked my head backwards, placing his face right to my ear.  
“Don't fucking lie to me.”  
I said nothing more, and hesitated in my mind at how I would handle the situation. How far would the android go to learn?  
He pulled me from the wall, pushed at my shoulder to face him, then forced his elbow to my throat. For the first time, I could see the near-human face of him. I knew a good portion about androids, yet had never seen his model before. He seemed young, at least what little I could see in the dark, in likeness, dressed in a suit and tie, and had an unreadable look across his face.  
“Tell me where I can find Jerecho!” His lips curled up over his teeth, his arm slowly cutting off my breath with each passing second.  
“I don't-” I tried to cough, but between his elbow and my hoarse throat, the words didn't form.  
“Tell me.” The words toned harsh and low, almost drowned out by the downpour of rain, echoing throughout the factory. In that crisp moment that I focused on the rain, I witnessed old equipment, falling apart, debris on the floor and a leak nearby from the ceiling. Nobody cared for the factory, and it hit me, hard, that I existed at a point of increasing danger. The android had full control over the situation.  
He noticed my daze and, dissatisfied with my disinterest in him, stepped back and hit a heavy hand to my face. I nearly fell, only held up by him digging his nails into my chin.  
“Where can I find Jerecho?” he repeated, heavy.  
“In Hell,” I attempted to retort, proving my strength. It didn't work, though, another firm slap to my cheek.  
“You'll know Hell just like the rest of the humans, then.” A sudden surprise, he leaned in to me, shoving a tongue that, for whatever reason, felt wet and slick into my mouth. I attempted to bite it, but he couldn't feel pain. After a moment of sliding his tongue over mine, he stepped back, the LED on his head yellow.  
“All your genetic files just came to me. Career criminal, petty things. A fraud and insult to criminals.”  
How in the fuck had he figured that out from shoving his tongue into my mouth? I almost had the gall to ask, but he bared his teeth again in anger.  
Pulling my hair back, loose strands breaking, he leaned in to bite my neck, harsh. I yelped, and he tensed at that.  
“I like that.”  
He pulled back, then glanced around the factory, momentarily, eyeing something in the corner I couldn't see. His hand fell to my throat, squeezing, dragging me away from the wall. I tried to resist, but his other hand grasped my arm so tightly I thought it would break. He led me to some small sort of table, resting next to the wall, and shoved me over it. The corner jabbed into my stomach and I groaned, trying to lift off, but he pinned me to the side. I felt his weight lean over me, whispering to me, “I love this part. I love breaking down your pathetic excuse of a species. I know every little thing to wear you down.”  
He reached his hand up my shirt, running his cold fingers down my side. It shocked me and I jerked up, but his reflexes outdid mine and he moved his hand to my neck, pressing me further.  
“You're just a fucking deviant,” he whispered, his free hand teasing at my hips. “I don't understand why you defend and hide the rest of them in Jerecho. You just serve them, the better beings.”  
His own hips went to mind, grinding, and I began to fear his intentions. Again, I attempted to buck him, but how did I expect to exert more strength than a hunk of metal?  
I heard a quick ripping sound behind me, and in a movement so quickly, I barely could jerk back, he had tightly tied his tie around my wrist, using his heavy body to brace me and keep me down. He threaded it through a rusted hole in the wall across from the table. I tried, hard, to pull away, breaking the wall, but I felt so exhausted from the struggle and running, it didn't work. This had become my fate, reduced to nothing at the hands of a machine.  
He laughed, curtly, and place both his hands at my hips.  
“That wall would be so easy to bust for me. For almost anyone else, really. But you can't do it, can you?”  
I simply didn't reply. Why? I almost had a hunch he wouldn't kill me; I knew where Jerecho rested, and he knew that I knew. He wouldn't kill me. Possibly. But he would torture and torment me to his content.  
Then a small idea hit me.  
“Do you know the law? An android, torturing a human.”  
He again leaned over me.  
“I know the fucking law. Humans created me to take down deviants, and I have the full power to do whatever I need to accomplish my mission.”  
“What if I don't know about Jerecho?”  
“You know,” he simply replied, sliding his hands to my thighs and pulling at my pants. I just had on ragged sweatpants, the android having found me outside my apartment complex when I started running. They slid down easily, exposing myself to the cold air and the android.  
I wanted to fight. I really fucking wanted to fight him, but I knew it would just waste my time and effort. This had become my fate, embarrassingly so.  
He placed his hips to mine, pressing into them, fingers trailing to my hair until he had a fistful, pulling my head back slightly. In that very moment, I could feel my lip still bleeding, hear the rush of rain and wind, thunder rumbling right ahead, and in that moment, I gave up. I completely gave up.  
“I'll tell you where to find Jerecho,” I pleaded.  
He let up, slightly, but said nothing. And so I explained the first steps to find the signs of Jerecho, signs only an android could find. I knew the area, but as a human, couldn't find the signs myself. I poured it all out, damning my friends just to avoid the lack of dignity.  
He stood quiet, then gave a soft, 'Hm'. I hoped he'd release my wrists, let me go, but instead I heard him shuffling, his belt loosening.  
“Just like a human to break. But I'm not done proving the worthlessness of humans.”  
His hands this time braced at my lower back. Did the android have genitals? Why the fuck did he, if he did? What possible reason existed for that?  
“They modeled me after humans. To the fullest extent. They equipped me with everything I'd need to complete my mission. Some humans want sexual favors for information.” He placed his hips right to mine. “And I'll do what it takes, to get what I want.” He shoved, hard, and I could feel him enter me. It felt dry, and cold, and disturbed me.  
“How does it feel?” he hissed. “How fucking weak do you feel?”  
Resting, for a moment, letting himself feel me, he began to thrust, slowly. I grunted, balling my hands into fists, my own nails digging into my palms. He let out a quiet, short laugh, pressing a hand into the dip of my back, dragging his own nails down it.  
“Admit how weak you are,” he spat, and I struggled to focus between the ache of my body and the drowning rush of rain.  
The thrusting sped, increasing the friction and raw pain, and I tensed, biting my lip so hard that the blood, which had near dried up, flowed again. It dripped down my chin, onto the table, and existed as another reminder to the horrific thing happening.  
“Go on,” he groaned, hips hitting mine, the length of him hitting at the wrong angle. I groaned, louder, “admit it!”  
“I gave you what you want, why?” I tried to further the sentence, but didn't have it in me.  
“I want you to admit, and tell me, how pathetic you are!”  
“Fuck you.” Blood and saliva spit from my mouth.  
For another time I couldn't count, he grabbed my hair, first shoving me into the table, then pulling back, my neck near snapping. He used it to brace himself, the table's legs screeching against the floor.  
I had near had it, pained, bruised.  
“What? You want your ego boosted? A fucking robot, better than humans, needing – an ego boost.”  
“Better than humans,” he echoed, and I hoped that gave him what he wanted.  
It seemed it had, and I felt him speed up, wondering if he could even get off, and quickly had my answer as I felt his release at my legs.  
He kept his grip on me, but not out of breath.  
“Better than humans,” he again repeated, stepping back, leaving me with questions to his design. A single rip and the tie fell in pieces off my wrist, a last handful of my hair throwing me to the ground. I pushed myself to my elbows, looking at the dark floor that my eyes had adjusted to, and snarled. The fucking machine had made a fool of me.  
“Thanks for cooperating. I'll make sure to tell your deviant friends you said hello,” he quipped, taking no time to turn and carry himself out of the factory, his footsteps loud on the concrete over the rain.  
All I could fathom at that point, bruised, beaten, demeaned, came to, 'What have I done?'

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you loved it, as I loved writing it. <3 


End file.
